Cullavellan Week 2016 Fics
by RosieG.9012
Summary: Short fics written for Cullavellan Week 2016 over on Tumblr. Day and theme are in the chapter title, title of the piece is at the top of each fic.
1. Day 2- Family

Baby Talk

Aylwen pressed herself closer to Cullen as they kissed atop the covers. She wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten to this point. The two of them had only meant to drop by her room briefly, but somehow they'd ended up on top of her bed, his arms tight around her waist and her hands cradling his face. Not that she minded. She was lost in the sting of his stubble, the solid press of his chest against hers, his scent all around her— And then he pulled back.

"Aylwen," he said faintly. His breath tickled her face. "Aylwen, love."

"What?" she said, out of breath. Her eyes were still closed, mind consumed by the desire to kiss him again.

"Have you ever, um, thought about children?"

Her eyes flew open, the fog clearing. His face was only inches from hers, and in the dim light she could just make out his nervous smile.

" _What?_ " she said.

His body, and his smile, stiffened.

"I was just wondering if, er, you've ever thought about having children," he said.

She blinked. This was definitely not where she'd envisioned the evening going.

"Um," she said. "Do you mean in general, or do you mean with you?"

"Yes," he said. "I mean, both. Either." He shrugged—awkwardly, since he was still holding her. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid question."

"No!" she said quickly. Her hands tightened around his face so he wouldn't look away. "It's not. Only… it's a little out of the blue, don't you think?"

"I know," he said. He laughed slightly, and his body relaxed. "It just… popped into my head."

She laughed as well, relieved by the drop in tension, and moved her hands to bury fingers in his curls.

"You're a very strange man," she said, "and your timing is terrible."

"I know," he said. "But now that I've asked, what's your answer?"

Aylwen bit her lip, eyes flickering away from his.

"Hmm…" she said. "I suppose I would like to have children. I mean, I've always thought I would."

She cut off, not finishing her thought. Not saying that, when she'd pictured herself having children, she'd imagined they would be elven, that they would grow up Dalish. It was something she hadn't reconciled herself to yet, the fact that with him that would be impossible.

She shook her head, trying to shake off the pressure that built in her chest whenever she thought about her clan around him, and tried to smile.

"What about you?" she said. She combed through his hair with one hand. "Would _you_ like to have children?"

He smiled, reached up and placed his hand over hers.

"I think so," he said. "It wasn't something I ever thought I'd be able to do. But now… with you… it seems possible."

She looked into his warm eyes, and suddenly it _did_ seem possible. For the first time, she allowed herself to imagine children, not with ears like hers, perhaps, but with his golden eyes or curly hair. Her stomach did a dizzying somersault. It wasn't what she'd always pictured for herself, but it was, perhaps, even more wonderful.

"Cullen," she said. Her fingers whispered against his cheek. "I would love to have children with you someday."

He blinked, eyes widening. He seemed lost for words, but instead of speaking he closed his eyes and tightened his arm around her waist. His lips met hers. She sighed into his kiss, head starting to fill with fog again—before she pulled back.

"—but not soon, all right?" she said. "I don't want to have children now. I mean in a few years. We might want to at least consider getting married first."

He chuckled, forehead pressed against hers. "Of course," he said. "Whenever you want."

She smiled, and tilted her head to kiss him again.


	2. Day 3- Working Together

Approval

They didn't always agree. In fact, more often than not they disagreed—about how to deal with the mages and Templars, about how to handle political negotiations, about when and how to deploy the Inquisition's troops. In early days Aylwen responded to such disagreements by withdrawing. She'd laugh nervously, hunch in on herself, mutter something like, "Well, maybe you're right…" It wasn't that he wasn't willing to debate, it was more that she was afraid of appearing foolish in front of him. Afraid of him realizing that she was, after all, just a naive Dalish girl from the middle of nowhere.

The matter of the mages was the first time she put her foot down. Unlike him, she didn't raise her voice. She looked him squarely in the eye, held back the tears that had begun to build when he yelled and calmly explained her decision and why she stood by it. She saw his expression shift, flashes of understanding and shame and, she thought, respect. After that he never lashed out at her again.

Not that things didn't still sometimes get heated. A few months into their time at Skyhold they were having full blown debates at the war table with Josephine and Leliana as their fascinated audience. Voices raised, hands slammed into the table, and faces so close she could almost feel the heat coming off him. Such moments were thrilling, frustrating, but also satisfying—especially when she caught a flash of approval in his eyes, the slight curl of his lip into a smile, or, best of all, when he stepped back, crossed his arms, and said: "Well. Maybe you're right."


	3. Day 4- Affection, Intimacy

Getting Comfortable

It caught him off guard, at first, how casual she was about touch—how she would lay a hand on his upper arm to get his attention, rest her head on his shoulder when they sat side by side, or throw her arms around him for no reason at all. At first he'd flinch or automatically move away. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he wasn't used to it.

As he got to know her better he realized that this was simply who she was. She was tactile, but only with people she knew well. She greeted Dorian with kisses on the cheek and danced in wild circles with Sera. Once, he'd even seen her run up and hug Solas— _Solas_ —because he was "Looking a little sad." But before their first kiss, she never once touched Cullen. It had been she who pulled away whenever he made as if to move closer.

Through the torrent of emotions that had come with that kiss on the battlements, he remembered being surprised by how uninhibited she seemed. There was none of the tentativeness that he associated with a first kiss. All of that had come from him. She had thrown her arms around him, melted into him. Kissed with such oblivion that even when he tried to pull away she followed as if unwilling to let him go.

"I suppose I'm more comfortable now than I was when we first met," she said when he asked about the change in her behavior one night. They were sitting on his bed with a book open in front of them and, in usual Aylwen fashion, she was basically draped over him—her arms around his middle, head against his chest, and legs looped over his.

He breathed in, and he could feel the press of her body as his chest expanded. He had his arms around her as well, and he realized suddenly that there was hardly a place on his body where he couldn't feel her warmth. Realized also that he felt no self-consciousness or nervousness at all about being so closely entwined. It was the most natural thing in the world.

"I suppose I am too," he said.

She hummed happily and hugged him tighter in response.


	4. Day 5- Sharing Customs

Call You Home

It was inevitable that Cullen would one day notice the fragments of careful, looping writing scattered around her quarters, especially when he began to spend more time there. Standing beside her desk one morning, he picked one up, smiled and said, "What's this?"

Aylwen, putting up her hair on the other side of the room, almost crossed the space to snatch the paper away from him. She shouldn't have left it lying on the desk for anyone to see. _The secret of writing is for us alone,_ Keeper Deshanna had said. _You must guard it closely, or else the shemlen might steal it away._ But then, the panic of seeing the paper in his hand passed, and he was just Cullen again—warm, curious Cullen.

"It's elven," Aylwen said. She finished pinning her hair in place, then crossed the room to come and stand beside him. She rested a hand on his arm. "I write it out sometimes. It calms me down."

His large hand passed once over the fine black marks, the precise, even strokes, before handing it back to her.

"It's very beautiful," he said. "What does it say?"

She took the paper from him, hesitated. For us alone… But then she shook her head and moved closer.

"It's a lullaby," she said. "Part of one, anyway." Gently, she took his hand, and moved it across the letters as she read. " _Tel'efenim, da'len_ ," she read. " _Irassal ma ghilas, ma garas mir renan. Ara ma'athlan vhenas. Ara ma'athlan vhenas._ "

He smiled at her, a blush on his cheeks. He turned his hand to lace his fingers with hers, and his skin was warm.

"What does it mean?" he said.

"Um…" she frowned. It was difficult trying to translate on the spot, even more so when he was so close. "Something like… _Don't fear, little one… Wherever you go… follow my voice. I will call you home._ "

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. She remembered Deshanna's rough voice singing her to sleep when she was little. _Ara ma'athlan vhenas… I will call you home._

Cullen must have noticed something, because he shifted and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She could feel the rumble of his voice as he spoke.

"You'll see them again someday," he said.

Aylwen wrapped her own arm around his waist and leaned into him, but said nothing. Her fingers tightened around the paper still clutched in her hand.


	5. Day 7- Happily Ever After

Toward the Light

In her rocking chair by the window, Aylwen dozed. The sun was warm on her face, and the voices of her grown children drifted into the sitting room from the kitchen. It was a good afternoon, one where she didn't need to do anything but sit and rest. Not that there was much else she could do, as of late. Little by little, she was slowing down.

She shifted in her chair, letting heavy sleep settle around her. Birds chirped somewhere nearby and wind rustled through far off leaves. Only one thing could have made this moment better, more complete.

Her chest tightened painfully, but she was so accustomed now to the feeling of missing him that it was almost bittersweet. She swallowed and, as she often did when she felt like this, opened and closed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as if an imaginary palm rested over hers.

"I miss you," she said. She said it so faintly it was even less than a whisper, a slight movement of her lips.

The wind murmured through the leaves again, seemed to answer, _I know._

She heard movement nearby, a slight creak of the floorboards. Perhaps one of the children was coming in to check on her. Either way, she didn't stir. Too comfortable and so, so tired.

The footsteps stopped, and the floor creaked again as someone knelt in front of her. She felt a warm, strong hand settle over hers.

"Ayly," he said. "Open your eyes."

She blinked them open, somehow not surprised to see Cullen sitting in front of her. He was young and strong again, face only faintly lined, as it had been when they'd first met, and mouth curled up at the corner. She was not surprised, but still she reached out and touched his face.

"You came back," she said. Her voice broke, almost indignant. "I waited so long."

"I know," he said. There was a laugh in his voice, but his eyes were warm. He reached up to cup her face in return, fingers settling in her hair. "I'm here now."

She leaned into his touch as he let his fingers slide along her cheek and away. He got to his feet, bent, and held out a hand to her. The gesture called to mind a time long ago when they'd danced.

"Come on," he said.

She stood up, and once again felt no surprise when she realized that she, too, was young and strong once more. On legs that didn't ache or protest, she stepped forward and placed her hand in his.

"I'm ready when you are," she said. He grinned.

He moved closer and their lips met briefly in a kiss that held a promise. Then they came apart and, together, turned toward the light.


End file.
